


Good Tips

by Kateera



Category: Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, The Pizza Man, fraternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateera/pseuds/Kateera
Summary: Delivering pizza's to a fraternity may be the worst part of Tristan's job. A chance encounter/rescue might be all it takes to change his mind.





	Good Tips

**Author's Note:**

> These two, man. Anyway, hope you enjoy and send lots of love to my wonderful beta, [Llewcie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/pseuds/Llewcie) for her tireless work and cheerful attitude while I despair.

"Tristan! Move your ass!"

 

Tristan groaned and slid out of his preferred booth. Tucking the well worn sketchpad into his coat, Tristan headed back and grabbed the two giant insulated bags from the counter. 

 

"Holy fuck, who needs this much pizza?" Tristan asked the girl at the boxing station.

  
She shrugged, handed him the address and waved him out the door all while never looking up from her phone. Giving the distracted girl a sarcastic salute, Tristan hauled the two heavy bags out the door and loaded up his beat-up Corolla. He patted the side of the car and apologized for all the abuse. Glancing at the address, Tristan cursed his job.

  
ΦΔΘ "Frat house, great. This is fucking great. Say hello to drunken assholes who don't tip," Tristan said as he pulled out into the street. "And now I'm talking to myself, fantastic."

  
Tristan hadn’t figured on settling in a quiet college town when he packed up his little Toyota and drove away from the single wide trailer of his youth. In and out of foster homes whenever his mother fell off the wagon and juvenile detention whenever he acted out, Tristan seemed destined for jail or an early grave. His mother cried and threw beer cans at the back of his car the night he left. Landing in Manhattan, Kansas with his car barely limping and his funds low, Tristan found the first job that didn’t balk at the tattoos on his face and started delivering pizza. The plan was to stay until his car was fixed. Two years later, the man who owned the small pizza place still held the record for fastest delivery driver and regular customers asked for him by name. He had enough for the small apartment above a dry cleaners, gas for his beloved car, Chelsea, and a little pocket money for art supplies. Dealing with the random drunken frat boy was worth the middle finger to anyone who thought he couldn’t settle down to a normal life.

 

When Tristan reached the large house with the symbols  **ΦΔΘ** (Phi Delta Theta) in bold font down the side of the door, he groaned and watched as a drunk idiot leaned against his car and puked. The man didn’t even register that there was someone in the car, just wiped his mouth and took a swig from his plastic cup.

  
"Sorry about that, Chels. Some men have no manners."

  
Deciding that delivering the pizza as fast as possible was his best course of action, Tristan grabbed the two bags out of his back seat, cursed their weight, and hurried to the front door. He hadn't touched the bell when the door flew open and a tall dark haired man stared down at him with a red solo cup in hand, wearing a toga and a plastic yellow crown, Tristan tried not to roll his eyes out of his head at such an unoriginal costume.

  
"Bless you kind sir!" The man shouted, as if Tristan wasn't standing right in front of him. "Sustenance has arrived!"   
  


"That will be seventy one dollars and ninety two cents," Tristan told him with his best customer service smile. 

  
"Yeah sure, come on in! I'm Arthur by the way," the man said by way of introduction. "Why don’t you bring those into the kitchen while I grab your cash."   
  


Arthur walked away, leaving Tristan to navigate his way through a horde of drunk horny college students.   
  


"I'm not supposed to enter," Tristan called out after the man, but Arthur had already disappeared. "Well, I'm not leaving till I get paid at least."   
  


With a bag tucked under each arm, Tristan weaved through the dancing party-goers and landed in the kitchen. To his relief, the door muffled the sound of the thumping music. Setting the bags on the counter, Tristan stood next to them, arms crossed and face stern.    
  


Arthur wandered into the kitchen and laughed at Tristan's serious face. "Hey man, you gotta relax. No one here would try and rob you. Here, there's your money."   
  


Tristan took the wad of cash from Arthur, counting it out while Arthur looked on with that damned smile.   
  


"Now come on, I’m super interested about those tats but I gotta make sure Lance doesn't try to do another keg stand. Bors can talk that man into anything! Why don't you grab a beer and join us?"  Without waiting for Tristan to answer, Arthur thrust a  can of beer in Tristan's hand and exited the kitchen.   
Tristan held the beer in one hand and his cash in the other, watching Arthur leave and shaking his head.

  
"At least he's not a cheap bastard," Tristan mumbled as he pocketed his substantial tip and set the beer down. After unloading the pizzas and folding the bags under his arm, Tristan headed for the door, hoping to make a quick exit while the overly friendly Arthur was preoccupied. His quick exit was derailed as he laid eyes on the most adorable man he'd ever seen trying to inch his way around the dance floor with a full bag over his shoulder and his shoes in his hands. Tristan stared, heat rushing to his cheeks when he realized his impression of a statue might gain attention and give                                                         
the other man's obvious plan of escape away. Walking casually towards the door, Tristan made sure he reached the exit at the same time as the other man and with a small wave, opened the door.

  
"Hey man, you're not staying?"

 

_ Fuck me.  _ Tristan turned around, blocking for the other man and giving Arthur an apologetic smile. “I’ve got to get back to work. Maybe some other time. Thanks for the tip.”

 

Arthur frowned. “Man, that sucks. Well, have a good night! And I want to hear the story behind those tattoos of yours!”

 

Tristan found himself shaking his head and smiling at the exuberant man. Despite the noise, Tristan counted this delivery as a win. Closing the door behind him, he walked out onto the lawn and right into the back of the beautiful man he’d helped. His breath caught in his throat as the man turned and stared at him.

 

“You helped me,” the man said, as if unsure about his observation.

 

Tristan nodded. “You looked like you wanted to get out of there. I take it you aren’t much for the parties around here?”

 

“Oh no, what gave it away?” Sarcasm dripped from the man as he spoke and Tristan held up his hands.

 

“No need to bite my head off, pup,” Tristan quipped and then flushed at the endearment he’d let slip. 

 

The man’s face twitched with amusement and he lifted a single delicate eyebrow.. “First time I’ve heard that one.”

 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Tristan shrugged and refused to explain why looking into those blue eyes and open face made him think ‘puppy.’ Instead, he held out his hand as if he knew what a proper gentleman was supposed to do and said, “I’m Tristan, by the way.”

 

The other man sighed and returned the gesture. “I’m Galahad. Yes, my parents are cruel but I love them. Shorten it to Gal if it makes things easier.”

 

Tristan laughed at Galahad’s spiel but the sound died as the front door crashed open.

 

“Hey Galahad! Where you going?”

 

Tristan looked up to see a blonde man weaving and stumbling towards them. Grabbing Galahad’s arm, Tristan ran to his car and pushed him into the passenger seat. Throwing himself into the driver’s seat, Tristan gave Galahad a wicked smile before starting the car and taking off down the street. In the rear view mirror, he could see the blonde man trying to give chase.

 

“You took my brother! Come back here you tattooed freak!”

 

Galahad moaned and put his head in his hands. “Great, this is great. Now my brother thinks I’ve been kidnapped by the pizza man and will never allow me to leave the house again.”

 

“At least you’ll make it to the library,” Tristan offered, still grinning at the success of his quick escape. “And hang out with me, so, bonus.”

 

Galahad raised his head and smirked. “How will I ever repay you?”

 

The car screeched to a halt outside the library entrance. Turning in his seat, Tristan stared at Galahad with obvious interest.

 

“I wouldn't say no to a blow job, but maybe just your number.” Tristan smirked at the blush bleeding onto Galahad’s face. “I bet you blush everywhere, right?”

 

Galahad thrust the car door open and hopped out, slamming it just hard enough to make Tristan frown at the abuse. Tristan watched in amusement as Galahad circled the car and tapped on his window, making him roll it down to talk.

 

“Give me your hand,” Galahad demanded and Tristan swallowed against the lump in his throat as he did as he was told.

 

With a pen from his bag, Galahad scribbled on Tristan’s palm, his blush still painted across his cheeks, and then headed to the library without another word. Tristan looked down to see 10 digits staring back at him. Smiling with triumph, Tristan entered the number into his phone and changed his mind (a little) about frat house deliveries.

  
  


Tristan waited until the next day to try the number, seeking to convince himself that it wasn’t a fake, that Galahad had actually been interested in some rough and tumble guy like him. College boys didn’t usually fall for high school dropouts. By noon, he’d mentally yelled himself into sending at least a text.

 

*Hey, it’s Tristan from the other night. How’d studying go?*

 

He left his phone in his pocket for three whole minutes before checking to see if he’d received a reply. Nothing. Ten minutes, still nothing. Between deliveries and sketching and goofing off with his co-workers, disappointment threaded through Tristan’s mind as time ticked on without an answer from Galahad. At the end of his shift, even the girl at the front counter could sense Tristan’s bad mood and gave him a soft pat on the back as he walked out the door. 

 

In front of his beat up car stood Galahad, his head buried in a book as he leaned against the door. The bright circle of the street lamp above gave him a halo around his head of dark curls and Tristan felt light-headed at the sight of him.

 

Settling his bag on his shoulder, Tristan approached his car with caution and tried to look as casual as he could while his heart pounded in his chest. 

 

“Are you stalking me?” Tristan asked with a smirk as he reached the car. 

 

Galahad glanced up from his book and shot a smile so wide Tristan had to take a step back. “Not too difficult when your place of employment is clearly marked on the hood of your car. You never called.”

 

“I texted.”

 

Galahad shook his head and pulled out his phone, making Tristan bite his lip to keep from laughing at the familiar black box of the indestructible Nokia cellphone.

 

“Texts aren’t my thing,” Galahad said with a sheepish grin.

 

“I guess not,” Tristan responded and let his laughter burst out into the night air. “I feel dumb for not calling now.”

 

“I feel dumb for not telling you about calling,” Galahad returned. 

 

“So, we’ve concluded we’re both pretty dumb then.” Tristan opened the back door and threw his bag on the seat. “Wanna grab dinner?”

 

Galahad pushed Tristan against the door and asked. “Can I kiss you first?”

 

Tristan barely nodded his head before Galahad pressed a pair of warm dry lips to his and gave a little moan of pleasure. Where their lips touched, Tristan felt sparks heat up the air around them and soon he had an arm wrapped around Galahad, pulling him closer as he sucked on his bottom lip. The kiss didn’t last very long but they stood in each other’s arms and breathed in unison, foreheads pressed together while they grinned. 

 

“Well, that went well I think,” Galahad said, brushing curls out of his eyes and straightening his clothes. “Where do you want to get food?”

 

It took a few seconds for Tristan’s brain to catch up to the question. “Um, the deli next to my place has pretty good sandwiches. I’m up for anything but pizza.”

 

Galahad laughed and pinched Tristan’s nose between his fingers. “No pizza works for me. You’d think it was the only food on the planet from the way my frat house devours the stuff.”

 

Tristan unlocked the car and let Galahad climb into the passenger seat while he took a deep breath to calm down and not jump on top of Galahad as soon as possible. When Tristan finally slid into the driver’s seat, Galahad placed a hand on the back of his head and brought their lips together again. This kiss held more passion, beckoning Tristan’s eager cock to life. 

 

Galahad pulled back and bit at the bottom of his kiss-reddened lips. “I’m not really that hungry, gorgeous.”

 

“Gorgeous, huh?” Tristan panted at the sight of those lips caught between white teeth. He wanted to run his tongue over every inch of that mouth. 

 

“Oh yeah. You have no idea how badly I wanted to offer that blow job last night. I wanted to see how gorgeous you were all over.”

 

Tristan groaned and shifted in his seat. “I’m not that hungry either. My place?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

The trip to Tristan’s tiny apartment took longer than normal due to Galahad’s distracting hands and a few too many close encounters with the curb. At last, Tristan parked Chelsea in her designated spot, grabbed his bag from the back seat, and Galahad’s hand. Waving to Mrs. Spencer, his landlady, Tristan dragged a laughing Galahad behind him as they raced up the stairs and into his two-room apartment. Tristan fumbled for his key with a curse, finally dragging it out of his pocket and opening the door. The front door opened into a tiny living room with space for a couch and tv while off to the right sat the kitchen. The bedroom sat on the other side of the living room and Tristan pulled Galahad towards it with a growl. Once they reached the bedroom, they slowed down and Tristan traced callused fingers over the soft skin of Galahad’s throat, watching him shiver and pant. Fire burned in Tristan’s eyes at the sight of Galahad falling apart in front of him. Stepping back, Tristan leaned Galahad against the wall and dropped to his knees. Undoing the simple leather belt and pulling down the zipper, Tristan pulled down Galahad’s jeans and briefs to reveal his hard and leaking cock nestled among dark curls. 

 

“And you called me gorgeous,” Tristan whispered, his voice full of awe. 

 

“Oh fuck, Tristan.”

 

“That’s later,” Tristan teased and then wrapped his mouth around the tempting sight of Galahad’s cock and slid it down his throat. His mouth stretched around the twitching cock and Galahad ran his hand through Tristan’s tangled hair, making obscene moans that traveled all the way to Tristan’s groin and made his stomach tense in pleasure. Tristan kept up a steady rhythm, suck and licking along the base of Galahad’s cock before taking him deep down his throat. Using one hand to hold Galahad still, Tristan snaked the other around to locate the tight ring of muscle between his smooth cheeks. Galahad gripped Tristan's hair in a tight fists, making Tristan wince in pain.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Galahad muttered, releasing the long strands and burying his face in his hands.

 

Looking up, Tristan asked, “Are you alright?”

 

Galahad shook his head and let his hands fall back to Tristan’s hair. “Yeah; just, it feels amazing and it’s been forever and I’m going to cum way too fast.” 

 

Smirking at the whine in Galahad’s voice, Tristan sucked a hard and steady rhythm on Galahad’s cock until he finally choked out a groan and came in sharp salty spurts. Tristan released Galahad’s cock with a soft kiss to the tip and looked up into his face with a smug grin. 

 

“Fuck,” Galahad said, “I need to lie down.”

 

“Mm, that’s the plan.”

 

Galahad helped Tristan to his feet and pushed him back onto the narrow bed, a small giggle erupting from his mouth as he tripped around the pool of jeans and underwear around his legs. Tristan swallowed the sound with a kiss, nipping at Galahad’s soft plump lips as he slid on top of him. A tangle of exploring fingers and discarded clothing followed until an elbow met Tristan’s cheek when he hit a ticklish spot against Galahad’s side. 

 

“I’m sorry! Oh fuck,” Galahad gasped, “you okay?”

 

Tristan rubbed at the sore spot and grinned. “Yeah baby; you don’t hit that hard.”

 

Galahad stuck out his tongue and Tristan caught it between his teeth, sucking on the muscle before letting go, locking their lips together and deepening the kiss. When he repositioned on the bed, Tristan brushed his cock against Galahad’s returning erection and they both groaned at the contact. 

 

“Are you playing with me Tristan?”

 

“Yes, but in the best of ways,” Tristan answered, rubbing their cocks together again and watching Galahad’s eyes roll into the back of his head. 

 

Kisses were pressed to skin and fingers curled around locks of hair as they explored each other. Tristan couldn’t believe this was happening, that this beautiful and educated man was currently rolling around with him in his room and making the most obscene noises Tristan had ever heard. When Galahad bit at his bottom lip, Tristan couldn’t take the teasing and reached between them to wrap a hand around both of their leaking cocks. 

 

“Fuuuuck,” Galahad groaned.

 

Tristan wanted him to keep making that sound all night. He knew this wouldn’t last long so he picked up speed and bent to kiss along Galahad’s exposed throat. 

 

“Galahad, oh fuck, I’m not going to last.”

 

Releasing his hold on Tristan’s hair, Galahad reached down and wrapped his hand around Tristan’s hand. The rhythm picked up and Tristan came with a groan, burying his face in Galahad’s neck. Lifting up a cum covered hand, Galahad licked at his palm and smirked when Tristan twisted his head and followed the motion, licking his lips. When Galahad finished cleaning his hand, Tristan kissed the taste from his lips. Galahad flipped them over, straddling Tristan’s hips and continuing to slide and twist his hand around his cock. 

 

“Come for me beautiful,” Tristan gasped, dragging his fingers down Galahad’s chest.

 

Galahad whimpered and leaned into Tristan’s touch, his orgasm ripping through him and painting Tristan’s chest with cum. He dropped his head to the mattress, then buried his face in Tristan’s neck, leaving small pecks against the sweat-slicked skin.

 

“I need a minute,” Tristan panted and Galahad groaned.

 

“I need sleep and I have a class at six am tomorrow.”

 

“Skip it,” Tristan offered.

 

Sitting up and cupping his chin in his palm, Galahad tweaked Tristan’s nipple. “You remember the big blonds guy who chased us down the street? My brother? He’ll be waiting for me at the beginning of class and if I’m late, he will hunt me down and handcuff me in the basement.”

 

“Would I still get visitation rights?”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“I plan on it.”

 

Galahad grinned and leaned forward, biting on Tristan’s nipple hard enough to make him yelp. A struggle broke out, each trying to pin the other onto the mattress until Tristan caught Galahad’s hands above his head and placed a knee to his chest. 

 

“I win, college boy,” Tristan said with a grin. 

 

Releasing him quickly, Tristan kissed the pout away from his face  and Galahad smiled, returning the kiss with slow, sweet pressure. Tristan melted, relaxing onto the bed and pulling Galahad around to drape across his chest. 

 

Pulling away to stare into Tristan’s amber eyes, Galahad traced the tattoos on his cheeks. “What’s with the tats?”

 

Tristan laughed and wrapped him in a hug. “The story isn’t anything to report on. My childhood wasn’t the greatest; foster families played a part for a bit and even when my mom was sober enough to keep me, schoolmates weren’t fond of me. I was pissed off and wanted to show it- typical teenager stuff really. The artist told me to pick from a book and that was that. I went home in pain and well, my mom was too drunk to notice but I stopped getting shoved against the lockers.”

 

Galahad ran a hand through Tristan’s hair. “That’s pretty awful, Tristan.”

 

“I’m better off here I promise.” Tristan shrugged. “This place and this job is actually more rebellion. My school labeled me “most likely to land in jail” so I’m proving them wrong with every pizza.”

 

A soft laugh danced from Galahad’s mouth. “You’re a dork.” 

 

Looking up at Galahad’s fond expression, Tristan blushed and turned his face into the pillow. The warm feeling in his chest expanded and Tristan knew he could give Galahad his heart in an instant. He’d distanced himself from emotions for so long; he could feel them returning at the blush in Galahad’s ears and his soft grin.

 

“What about you? What makes you join a fraternity you hate?” Tristan asked, looking up and shaking his hair out of his face.

 

Galahad groaned and sat up against the wall next to the bed. “I joined for my brother and I don’t hate them. They’re actually all pretty good guys. My brother is very protective of his “gay little brother” and i think he likes having more people to watch over me. They just take their duties as my brothers a little too far. Gawain read somewhere about bigots using online sites to lure gay men on dates and then beating them up. I can’t go on a date now without someone shoving pepper spray in my bag and telling me to text if it’s a trap.”

 

“So if you don’t show up to class tomorrow?”

 

“He’ll think I’m dead and panic and by the time it’s sorted out, he’ll be kicked out of school, and I’ll be shipped back home.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Tristan groaned in surrender, “I’ll get you to class on time.”

 

Galahad looked over and smiled. “Are you still a little bit of rebel?”

 

“Why?”

 

Galahad’s smile widened.

 

***

 

Gawain leaned against the wall next to Galahad’s first class, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl painted on his otherwise attractive face. People skirted past him with worried glances but he kept his gaze on the entrance. 

 

Galahad walked through the door and the scowl lessened, only to be replaced by a confused frown when it looked as if Galahad wasn’t alone. Tagging along behind Galahad was the scruffy haired pizza delivery man holding a large coffee in each hand and a brown paper sack between his teeth. Galahad dug into his bag and pulled out the appropriate notebook with a flourish. Gawain pushed himself off the wall and headed towards them. He watched as Galahad took the paper sack from the man’s mouth and one of the coffee cups and he froze while his brother wrapped an arm around the scruffy man and pulled him close, giving him a passionate kiss. Watching the two of them kiss and hold each other, Gawain flushed and turned around before Galahad could spot him. 

 

“Gawain!” 

 

Galahad’s voice rang out in the hallway and Gawain turned to see Galahad waving him over. Straightening his spine, Gawain willed his blush to disappear and joined the still embracing couple. 

 

“Glad to see you made it to class,” Gawain said by way of hello.

 

Galahad smirked. “Well, it was a close thing. Tristan isn’t quite himself without coffee so we had to make a quick stop.” Turning to Tristan, he squeezed his hand. “Tristan, this is my brother Gawain. Gawain, this is Tristan.”

 

“Your boyfriend?” Gawain asked in a small and unsure voice, shaking Tristan’s hand but looking at his brother.

 

Galahad’s yes blended with Tristan’s no and Gawain looked between them with more confusion pulling at the lines on his face. Galahad looked at Tristan who blushed bright red across his cheeks.

 

“I didn’t want to presume,” Tristan started but Galahad hushed him with a finger to his lips.

 

“You’ve had my cock in your mouth. That’s a boyfriend thing in my book.”

 

Gawain gave a loud cough and backed off. “Um, now that I’ve heard that and can never unhear that, I’m going to go to class and pretend I’m not traumatized by my younger brother having a sex life.”

 

“Nice to meet you Gawain. Especially when you’re not chasing after my car,” Tristan said while keeping his eyes on Galahad’s adoring face. 

 

“Yeah, well, I was, well, nice to meet you too.” Gawain retreated with a swift pat on Galahad’s back and the remaining two waited until he rounded the corner before bursting into laughter. Once they could control themselves, Tristan pulled Galahad into a kiss and brushed their noses together.

 

“You are an evil genius,” Tristan said, still slightly breathless from the laughing fit. “Do we have to do this again at the frat house?"

 

“Nah, by the end of the day, Gawain will have told everyone to garner sympathy. By tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if Arthur tries to take you out for The Talk.”

 

Tristan rolled his eyes but in truth, he wanted to pick Galahad up, sling him over his shoulder and drop him back into the middle of bed. He leaned back instead and gave a small smirk. “So, boyfriend huh?”

 

Galahad looked at the ground. “Only if that’s okay with you? I’m sorry if I presumed.”

 

Tristan grabbed his chin and forced Galahad’s eyes to meet his own. “No apology needed, pup. I’ve just never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

 

“Well you can’t say that anymore. Kiss me and get out of here so I can concentrate on the social-economic downfall of the Roman Empire.” Galahad’s bright grin blazed through Tristan’s heart and he fell the last few steps into love.


End file.
